


The Pleasure Is All Mine

by GunTotingScienceNerd



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Breathplay, Dubious Consent, Graphic Description, M/M, Machines, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Sounding, Torture, Wall Sex, flaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1399159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunTotingScienceNerd/pseuds/GunTotingScienceNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme fill: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=14148864#t14148864</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A Decepticon captures an Autobot. (Or maybe a neutral, or a lower ranking 'Con, you decide.) And he very much wants to break him.</p>
<p>Problem? Only one little detail with the Autobot's past he doesn't entirely know. The mech was a well-tuned pleasure-bot before the war, and his programming is still present. Physical pain? He can switch off his receptors entirely. Damage? He can redirect his nanites much more effectively than an average robot. Brutal-size toys pushed up into his valve? He will set his panels further apart without further fuss. Humiliation? Seriously? It's in his programming to comply with any request and not be bothered by it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pleasure Is All Mine

It should have felt wrong, seeing his plating being taken away piece by piece. It should have hurt. He should be screaming, begging would be nice, even attempts to escape, or fighting. At the very least he expected some attempt at humor or bravado as this particular bot was known to do. Instead Vortex was getting questions, but even those weren't the right kinds of questions. Well not for this situation. They would have been what he wanted to hear if wasn't on the job. The questions should be more along the lines of "Why are you doing this?" Of course there was the one they all used, "Please let me go?"

 

This bot, he was odd to begin with, but these reactions… 

 

“Why’d you stop? It was just starting to get interesting.”

 

“It will. I thought we’d have a little fun first.” Turning Vortex made a show of walking to the wall where all of his favorite tools of his trade were displayed. “I’d ask if you had a preference, but I’m really not in the mood to hear you beg to be released.”

 

“Nah, you don’t have to let me go. I like having fun. I’ve had all kinds of fun. I’ll bet I could even teach you a trick or two. Might have do that before the fun is over.”

 

“Doubtful. I think all I will be learning is the different ways you can scream.” He was busy preparing a his plan of action. He wished he had more proper facilities for this. A nice mech rack would be fun, an adjustable kneeling bench, still he knew how to make due with what he had and this bot was going to be fun to play with, and he did have a his newest design, that would be fun to test out. 

 

Jazz didn't know whether to laugh or sigh. The conundrum was that his reputation had not preceded him. He had once been sought out all over Cybertron. Ah but that was so very long ago. Vortex’s attempt at intimidating Jazz was had allowed the saboteur all the time he needed to bring much valued programming to the forefront rather than on the standby he kept it on for his unofficial job as moral officer.

 

”Let’s begin. I’m going to start with those versatile hands of yours. You’ve been free to cause too much trouble around here for too long, and I mean to see that you never do again.” Removing the fine articulated plates on his hands was done without any flourish, that was saved for slowly pulling out and removing each and every tool hidden within the mechanisms of Jazz’s hands. With the slow pull of each Jazz would groan, and with snap of the tool breaking loose Jazz would sigh with the pleasure the pain brought. Optic ridges on the rotor furrowed, that was not the right reaction. He wanted screams. Those sounds were not screams. Fine, if that didn't earn him what he so wanted he would try a different body part. This one was find of music, specially adapted himself to use it as a weapon, maybe if he took away this ones ability to make music he'd give him a different kind of sound. These sounds would be pretty sounds. Lovely, lovely sound. The snap of a breaking limb like an aria to his audials. 

 

“Hmm, that feels good. If you’re going for the sweet spot that’s a little higher and to the inside.” 

 

If he could not have his sweet sweet music he would have his fun. “Time for you to test out my newest toy.” Lifting the smaller bot by its throat he carried it across the room. He'd hoped vertigo would cause its head to swim, maybe the tightening of his hand on its throat would make it claw at him, or a gasp as it's airway became constricted. He didn't want more moaning, and definitely not a purr. 

 

"More, please more. So good." This damaged 'Bot was actually trying to tighten his hand around its throat. "Ah, Primus more. Please more. Just a mmmm, just a little more."

 

"You like it when I touch you, so I won’t touch you!" He flung the fractured mech so it landed across his latest toy. He did enjoy the grunt of pain the bot made as it’s abdomen connected with the cube. It slide back so it’s knees where on the ground and body lay across the cube. It would have been the perfect position to take his pleasure from the Bot but this one was not going thrash and wail like he wanted so he would save himself the disappointment. 

 

“This is a little low for you isn’t it big boy? Planning on inviting company? Or is it gonna stay a private party? I mean I’m all for company, you know the more the merri…. Er! Oh slag me!”

 

Ripping his interface panel off struck most normal bots with fear, usually he got his much desired screams. This… This fractured Bot wasn’t playing by the rules. He was supposed to be scared of what was happening to him. He was supposed to scream, and cry, and beg, and plead, not moan, groan, gasp, pant, and definitely not overload - repeatedly. The frustration was beginning to get to him. Vortex pushed Jazz’s head down on the cube and lifted his aft in the air. 

 

“About time you stop dancing around and get to the good stuff. A Bot can only take so much teasing!”

 

With a growl Vortex ripped Jazz’s interface panels away. He lifted the moaning Bot up by it’s throat so he could stare this mech who was denying him his fun as he punched the thing in its face breaking its visor. “You will give me what I want in pieces or you will give me what I want by the pound, either way I will have your screams little Bot.” 

 

Jazz ran his tongue along his denta sucking the mechblood from his busted lip and loose teeth. “Uhm, I like the way you party. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned for the rest of our time  
together.”

 

Vortex took great pleasure in strapping the Bot on to his his newest design. Setting him in the center of the cube, peds secured to the floor in what should have been a comfortable sitting position, but comfort was not something this ‘Con did, and if it started out comfortable it was bound to become drastically less so in short order. Jazz’s hands were strapped to the opposing arm’s mid arm joint, then lashed together, with lashing repeatedly circling his forearms they were then pulled taunt and locked to the cube behind him. Weights dangling from small chains were added to the underside of his alt modes bumper. The weights were charged to attract each other. When they were allowed to connect a small jolt was sent along the chain into Jazz’s armor, making his cilia connectors sing, and wrenching noises from him that grated on Vortex. Those noises were not screams. He wanted screams. He would get his screams. 

 

Vortex continued securing it to his cube. Restrains were added to calves and thighs, spreader bar, toggle bolts inserted in armor creases to widen gaps, last a hollowed version of the cube was lowered from the ceiling as a hood. When all of this was complete he picked up his remote, turned his toy on, and stepped back to watch it work. 

 

Bumper weights were beginning to pull, when Jazz hunch his back, the best he could, the cube came to life. It started as vibrations, strong enough to echo across his plating. It was a pleasant sort of feeling, that drew more groans from him, until he felt the cube begin to change shape. He was sinking into is, or it was wrapping around him, hooded he couldn’t look to see. Either way it was morphing to fit his body’s shape. The lower he sank the more it pushed at every nook of his armor, until it started to expand to fit those spaces. One of the empty spaces it pushed into was his value. At first is was a pleasant addition to the vibrations charging his plating, then it breeched him. It was a slow rolling feeling until it filled him, then it began to widen. 

 

The stretch brought old memories of long forgotten times when being filled and stretched was a way of life, but that had been a lifetime ago. His body was different now and it’s limitations where different, that feeling was the same. Pleasure to the point of pain, his own fluids coating his body and the cube with the push pull from the stimulation. The cube was molding itself to his entire interface array. His spike was drawn in to a void, then engulfing him, then it too was filled. Sensations only used to transfluid leaving were set on fire as the malleable metal of the cube pressed in on them. 

 

The hood waited until the heat within him was so great he opened his mouth to help with the ventilation. Then it too became active. If it had been a lover, he would have welcomed the invasion to his intake. He would have been prepared, the heat of his lover, the sight and smell enticing him to perform better for a mech he cared for, this however was more akin the training he’d endured for ops. His breath was first restricted, his throat being squeezed from the outside as well as the in. That it would expand in his throat brought a shock, coding or no Jazz was beginning to feel panic creep into his processor. The more he twitched the more the cube tightened on him. It was becoming a cycle, Jazz would twitch and writhe, the cube would fill him. Jazz would still, the cube would retreat. He wasn’t sure how long the cycle continued his body was brought to the brink of overload only to be denied so many times now he had lost count. 

 

He was sure it would have continued except the mech responsible for putting him in this device was tired of waiting. With a growl of rage Vortex ripped Jazz from his restraints, his intake, valve, spike had all been full at the time and the cube fought to retain its hold on him as it was too ripped free of its prisoner. Jazz coughed and sputtered as his body curled into itself protectively. Energon flowing freely from its abuse. He tried to speak but was unable until he’d reset and cleared his vocoder from the energon pooling in the back of his throat. “Decide you wanted to get in on the fun, huh sweetspark? It’s alway much more fun with an active partner.”

 

Jazz was beginning to rethink speaking. His latest attempt had him hurled into and smashed against the nearest wall. When he cleared his HUD from all the warnings about structural integrity and multiple damage alerts his vision was full of the red visor of a very enraged rotor. “Kissing costs extra, dear spark.”

 

The growl shorted out his audials for moment, but he could still feel. Feel being turned and again shoved face first into the wall. He could feel his alt mode hood crumple for the weight of the rotor at his back. Feel one of his hip joints being forced up and pulled back at such an angle as to make sure he wouldn’t full use of them if he ever got the chance to escape. Although at the moment it was looking like that would not be happening. He screamed when the rotor entered him, whimpered at the violent, harsh pace that the mech was fragging him, a litany of “Oh frag me!”, “Primus in the pit, yes!”, “Aw baby that’s so good.” fell from his vocalizer in a constant stream. The mech was ripping him apart in bits and pieces, and that coding was making him cry and beg for more. 

 

Vortex finally overloaded, and slag him if it didn’t scream in overload with him. That was it. He was done with this thing, if it wanted to play he’d bring his whole gestalt down for them to make use of it’s frame too. Tossing it to the ground he stomped out of his play room. 

 

Jazz wasn’t sure how long he’d been offline from that overload, but when he came to he was being carried again. Only the mech carrying him this time was not the one who’d carried him before. “Down! Soundwave you’d better put me down if you don’t want me to purge energon on you.” Jazz collapsed the moment his peds touched down, and before his body had finished it’s fall he was already emptying his tanks. When the convulsions ended he was again lifted and carried but he wasn’t sure to where, since his world went black. 

 

When his optics came back online the next time it was to the sight of a garish orange ceiling and too bright lights. Ark med bay. He let darkness of recharge and energy redirected for auto repair priority, claim him again.

 

Next time he came online it was to the sound of water splattering in a dish, the feel of wetness on his armor, and a warm field brushing against his own. “Relax love, you are safe.” A soft cloth wa dragged across his armor again. “I am here now, I will take care of you.”

 

Jazz had to resort to comm’s as his intake tubing was still raw and now swollen with auto repair working on it. ::Thanks Prowler, it’s good to be home.:

**Author's Note:**

> I think I got most of it, there are a few things that I wasn't able to work in but I hope Anon who requited is still happy.
> 
> *Edit - After talking with another author I decided to add flaying to the tags, as Vortex removing Jazz's armor could be considered that.


End file.
